


Quiet Spaces

by tinypatroclus (oneisforsorrow)



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, deaf!briseis, nerd!patroclus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneisforsorrow/pseuds/tinypatroclus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patroclus is the new boy at school and there are rumours about something bad he's done in his past. He wants to be unnoticed, invisible. But when school heartthrob Achilles spots him, Patroclus finds himself with a best friend that he could never have expected to have. How will things go down when they start to become a little more than just best friends?</p><p>--</p><p>Based on some Patrochilles headcanons I wrote</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Extra tags (incl. characters and relationships) will be added as this story goes on. Any warnings for individual chapters will be put in the notes at the beginning.
> 
> \--
> 
> This is mostly going to be based around some Patrochilles High School AU headcanons I wrote here: http://potterharry.co.vu/post/118451431072/modern-patrochilles-high-school-aus-tho-achilles
> 
> Achilles and Patroclus are both 16 and Achilles is a few months older. The story is set in the year 2000, in England, just because that's where I live so I can be accurate about things.

Noise. That’s the first thing that truly captures Patroclus’s attention. There are people everywhere, running, pushing, shouting, laughing. They all merge into one in his eyes, each wearing the same identical uniform. Just the same as the one he wears.

Patroclus makes his way across the yard, keeping his head down. He’ll do anything to keep people from noticing him.  He wants to blend in seamlessly. Hopefully nobody will bother him that way.

Inside, there are just as many people, but they’re quieter here, walking in more-or-less straight lines down either side of the corridor. Some stand by blocks of lockers, leaning casually up against them as they chat to their friends, heads bent in, keeping their voices low. He sees some of the girls look his way, and then quickly divert their eyes. He wonders if they’ve heard anything about him. Gossip in a high school travels faster than an email goes across the Internet.

There are no obvious directions in which he should be going, so he pulls out the map of the building he was given on his last visit to the school, before he was officially a student. He quickly pinpoints where he is – just outside one of the English classrooms – and works out which corridors he should go down to get to his maths lesson. He wished, wished, wished it wasn’t maths first.

Patroclus heads along a corridor to his left, noticing a group of boys his age a little further down. There are seven of them, all with dark hair apart from the boy in the centre of the group who is taller and has a head of golden curls. Patroclus drags his eyes up and down the boy’s figure, biting his lip as he realizes just how attractive he is.

As if he had heard Patroclus’s thoughts, the curly-haired boy turns around. Even from a few feet away, Patroclus can see the colour of his eyes; they’re blue, the kind of blue you’d see on a misty morning sea. And they twinkle, happy and bright. His lips are slightly parted so Patroclus can just see  his front teeth. Then he smiles properly. A toothpaste advert sort of smile - bright and white and beautiful.  

But he doesn’t say anything to Patroclus. He merely smiles for a moment and then he’s gone.

Patroclus almost loses his way to his class thinking about the boy. He wonders why he smiled at him that way. He seemed like the popular kind of boy, the one with all the friends who followed him around like he was some kind of god. He’s probably really good at sport, Patroclus thinks, nearly jumping out of his skin as he hears the bell ring for the beginning of first lesson.

He hurries straight to his classroom, arriving there a couple of minutes late. The teacher doesn’t criticize him, knowing that he’s new. But he does get some strange looks from his peers as he shuffles to the spare seat near the back of the class.

He looks around and immediately spots Golden Curls again. And he’s smiling at him. Again. Why does he keep doing that?

Patroclus unzips his backpack and rummages around to find his pencil case. His teacher puts a new exercise book on his desk and tells him to write his name on. He does.

_P a t r o c l u s_

Golden boy is looking at him. Patroclus looks away, his cheeks going rather hot. Fortunately, his light brown skin hides the blush.

After initially struggling, Patroclus manages to immerse himself into the lesson, forgetting about Golden boy for a while. But once the lesson comes to a close, he’s there again, that smile on his lips. Patroclus sees the name on the front of his book as he puts it into his black satchel.

_A c h i l l e s_

 

 

\--

 

 

Patroclus doesn’t see Achilles in his next lesson – English – or the one after that, which is Geography. But when Patroclus walks into the lunch hall, there he is, sitting on top of one of the tables, his friends gathered around him. He’s juggling something, and when Patroclus gets closer, he sees that the things he is tossing are figs. _Why does he have figs for lunch?_ Patroclus wonders, taking a seat on an empty table. He takes out his lunch from his bag. It’s just cheese sandwiches, but its food and he’s hungry.

“Catch,” somebody says. He doesn’t look up, assuming the words aren’t directed at him. They never are, are they? But he hears it again.

“Hey, catch!”

He looks up just in time to see a fig come flying towards him. Quickly cupping his hands, he catches it, and then stares at it as if it had appeared there by magic.

“Come sit with us,” say Achilles, gesturing towards his own table. Patroclus doesn’t know what to say or to do. Why would the popular guy want him to come and sit with him for lunch?

Patroclus is at a loss. So he doesn’t do anything other than lower his head and continue to eat his sandwich, his fig placed on the tabletop.

Somebody sits down in the chair beside him. Patroclus knows that it’s him before even looking up. Golden Achilles smiles at him.

“Your name’s Patroclus, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Achilles.”

“I know,” Patroclus says, unsure if it’s a stupid reply to give or not.

“Do you like figs?” Achilles asks, reaching for the one he gave Achilles and begins to toss it up in the air, catching it with ease. Patroclus assumes that Achilles must play some kind of sport that involves throwing and catching. Baseball? Rugby? Basketball? Maybe all three and more.

He realises he hasn’t responded to Achilles’ question.

“I do, yeah.”

“Keep this one then,” Achilles says, catching it a final time before handing it to Patroclus.

They sit in silence for a moment as Patroclus looks at the fig in his cupped hands. Then he glances up at Achilles.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” he says.

Achilles looks confused. “Sorry?”

“I mean... you don’t have to sit with me because I’m the new guy or whatever. Your friends probably want to talk to you and... stuff.”

“They’re not really my friends.”

Patroclus doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“I mean, they’re great, but I don’t want to hang out with them every goddamn second,” Achilles elaborates.

“Oh,” is Patroclus’s reply.

Achilles edges a little closer to Patroclus.

“Want to hang out sometime this week?” he asks. Patroclus looks up at him with wide eyes.

“What-“

“You don’t have to. I mean, I just think it’d be cool if I could show you around the town and stuff, since you’re new here.” Achilles shrugs.

Patroclus bites the inside of his cheek. He can’t understand why somebody like Achilles would make such an effort to be his friend.

“Okay...”

“Yeah? Great! And you can come over to my place afterwards, if you like.”

Patroclus is so speechless that all he can do is nod.

Achilles puts his hand on Patroclus’s back for a moment. “Okay so, like, tomorrow night?”

Another nod from Patroclus.

“Great. Meet me at the gates after last lesson.”

 

Then he’s gone and Patroclus is left with his half finished sandwich and his fig, wondering exactly what just happened.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Patroclus walks home quickly that evening, his thoughts filled with images of Achilles. He’s still uncertain of how genuine the boy’s motives are. Maybe it’s all a trick and Achilles is going to turn on him.

He knocks on the door and waits. His foster parents haven’t given him his own key to the house yet. Pat suspects they don’t trust him enough. But they’re nice enough; they give him hearty food and he’s got his own room, which he was allowed to pick out the colours for. He chose a light blue for the walls. A blue a bit like Achilles’ eyes.

“Snap out of it,” he tells himself, just as his foster mother opens the door. She smiles at him, welcomes him home and asks him to take his shoes off before he comes in. She fussy in that way.

He answers her questions about his day and mentions Achilles and his offer to show him around town. She looks uncertain at first, but finally agrees that would be okay, as long as he comes home before it gets dark.

“He sounds nice,” she says.

“Yeah. I think he is,” Patroclus replies, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He heads up to his bedroom, Achilles still on his mind.

“Ah-kill-ees..” he says aloud as he lies back on his bed and looks up at the constellation charts he’s put on the ceiling. “Achilles...”

Later that night, once his dinner has been eaten and he’s bathed, he crawls into bed and sleep lulls him. Soon, he’s dreaming about the stars. His mother – his real mother – used to say that he was the brightest star. She didn’t always make much sense, but her words could be beautiful and comforting nevertheless.

 

\--

 

The next day, Patroclus can’t stop thinking about Achilles. He’s there in a few of his lessons, chatting to his friends and making them laugh. They seem to hang on his every word. Occasionally, Achilles looks over at him and smiles and Patroclus smiles back. Just a little smile.

There’s no sign of him at lunchtime, but Patroclus does find a note that has been slipped under the door of his locker.

_‘Don’t forget – meet me at the gates at 3:30. x A’_

As if Patroclus would forget about it.

 

\--

 

Achilles is already there when Patroclus goes to find him at the school gates. His friends don’t surround him now; he’s alone, leaning casually against the iron fence. He straightens when he sees Patroclus on the horizon and gives him a wave.

Patroclus approaches him, nervously adjusting his maroon beanie and his glasses.

“Hey,” Achilles says. “I like your hat.”

Patroclus thanks the Gods again for his tan skin that doesn’t show what would be obvious pinkness in his cheeks at the compliment.

“You got any money?”

Patroclus shakes his head.

“Eh, don’t worry. I can pay for you.”

“Pay for... what?” Patroclus asks uncertainly.

“I’m taking you to the place that serves the best milkshakes in town. Come on.”

Achilles runs off and, after a second to work out what was going on, Patroclus begins to run after him. He can’t keep up with him, even though he has always been a faster runner. Achilles is faster. His golden curls bounce as his feet pound against the concrete path, his arms swinging, his mouth open as he laughs.

He turns back to look at Patroclus and beams at him. “You’re good!”

“You’re better!” Patroclus calls back to him, a proper smile on his face now. He increases his pace and Achilles grins as he also begins to run faster.

“Not fair!” Patroclus pants, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. They have reached the coast now and can look out at the great blue sea that stretches out into the horizon.

“Keep going, we’re nearly there!” Achilles tells him. Patroclus starts to run again.

Finally, Achilles stops outside a small white building and gestures for Patroclus to follow him inside. It’s an old-fashioned kind of place. Patroclus can’t if it was deliberately made to look like retro 60s decor or whether the management just hasn’t redecorated in a long time. But, either way, it’s nice.

Achilles sits down and Patroclus takes the chair opposite him. By now, Pat’s school shirt sticks to him with sweat and his breathing is heavy. Achilles, on the other hand, doesn’t look worn out at all.

“Ah, Achilles. Haven’t seen you here in a while.” A man with a brown beard and wearing a white apron approaches their table. “Who’s this young man?”

“This is Patroclus,” Achilles replies. _Pa-tro-clus_. “Pat, this is Chiron.”

Patroclus smiles at the fact that Achilles has already adopted a nickname for him.

“New around here, are you, Patroclus?” Chiron asks.

Patroclus nods. “I moved into a new foster home not long ago...”

Achilles looks surprised at this revelation. Chiron just smiles, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

“What can I get you both?”

“I’ll have my usual,” Achilles tells him, then glances over at Patroclus. “What kind of milkshake would you like? They have almost every flavour you can think of... you do like milkshakes, right?!”

Achilles sounds a little panicky so Patroclus laughs and nods to confirm that, yes, he does like milkshakes very much, thank you, Achilles.

“Can I just have vanilla?” he asks Chiron, who jots his request down in a notebook.

“Coming right up.”

He disappears into the kitchen and Patroclus and Achilles are left alone.

“So... I didn’t know you were fostered,” Achilles says, tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop with his fingers.

“I thought everybody would have found that out by now.”

Achilles shakes his head. “People don’t know as much as you think they do, you know. You don’t have to be worried about them.”

But Patroclus is worried about them; he can’t help it. He just wants to live a quiet, normal life, without being reminded about what happened.

“What kind of stuff are you into?” Achilles asks, changing the topic completely.

“I’m... uh, I like biology and chemistry and stuff, I guess. Writing, poetry...”

“Music?”

“Yeah, but I’m not that great at playing anything.”

“I’ve been learning guitar since I was five. I’ll play for you sometime.”

Patroclus doesn’t understand him. Why is he being so nice? He barely knows him.

A few minutes later, their shakes arrive in tall glasses, a colourful straw in each. Achilles’ drink is bright pink.

“Strawberry?” Patroclus guesses.

“Raspberry,” Achilles says, before taking a sip.

“They don’t do fig ones?” Pat jokes.

Achilles laughs. “I wish.”

 

\--

 

The sun is beginning to set and Patroclus knows he ought to go home, but Achilles convinces him to stay with him a little while longer. He takes him down to the skate park, to the field where he and his friends play ball games, to the arcades, and up and down pier.

“Let’s go down onto the beach,” he says, reaching for Patroclus’s hand and gives it a tug. By now, Patroclus can’t do anything but follow him.

Achilles takes off his shoes and jumper and rolls his trousers up to his knees before walking out onto the soft, pale sand. Patroclus copies him.

They race towards the sea, Achilles holding back to keep pace with Pat. They go bounding into the cold water together.

“Shit! It’s freezing!” Patroclus gasps, running straight out again. Achilles laughs and splashes him with sea water.

“Coward!” Achilles calls to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulls him back. Patroclus shrieks as the cold water brushes against his toes. Achilles wraps his arms around his waist.

Wait, what?

Patroclus stops laughing. So  does Achilles. Everything has suddenly become very quiet. Very intimate.

All Patroclus can hear is Achilles’ heavy breathing and the sound of the waves washing against the shore.

Then there’s another sound. A woman’s voice.

“Achilles? Is that you?”

Achilles hastily lets go of Patroclus and looks around for the source of the voice. There’s a pale woman standing by the water’s edge, her long black hair being ruffled by the sea breeze.

“That’s my mother...” Achilles says quietly. “She comes down here a lot.”

He walks towards her and Patroclus follows.

“You should be at home. Does your father not keep an eye on you?” she scolds him, looking first at her son, then at Patroclus.

“Who is this?”

“Patroclus.”

“I think he better go home as well.”

Without arguing, Achilles goes to pick up his shoes and his jumper and his school bag.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”  He says.

Patroclus nods. “Yeah.”

Achilles pats him on the back and turns to follow his mother down the beach. Patroclus starts to walk in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus's foster parents aren't characters from TSOA. They're just there because I couldn't really have Peleus foster him because then Pat and Achilles would be foster brothers and that'd mess things up a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic language.

Achilles approaches Patroclus the next day in the school library. Pat is immersed in a book about the human body, and doesn’t notice Achilles is there until the boy gives him a tap on the nose, making Patroclus jump.

“Hey,” Achilles says, swinging back on the legs of his chair, earning himself a glare from the librarian.

“Hi,” Pat replies, putting down his book on the table. “Thank you for last night.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” Achilles grins. He takes Patroclus’s hand and starts to trace his finger over his palm. Patroclus giggles and pulls away.

“That tickles.”

“So... do you want to come over to my place tonight?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus bites his lips. He got a stern warning from his foster mother for being late the night before and for getting his trousers wet and covered in sand. But he hadn’t been grounded, hadn’t been stopped from seeing Achilles. So he nods.

“Sure... if that’s okay with your dad.”

“Yeah, he’s fine with me bringing people over. Don’t worry.”

He taps Patroclus’s arm again, that beautiful smile of his stretching across his face. “I’ve got running club for an hour after school, can you wait for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! Just wait outside the changing rooms at four thirty. Okay, see you later.”

Achilles dashes off through the library towards the doors and the librarian shouts at him, “No running indoors!” Patroclus covers his mouth with his hand to keep his laughter from escaping his mouth.

In the afternoon, Patroclus has his first music lesson. Achilles is there, too, with the only spare seat in the classroom next to him. He gestures wildly for Patroclus to come and join him. Pat rolls his eyes at Achilles’ enthusiasm.

They’re studying musical theory today, something which obviously bores Achilles. Patroclus can imagine that he would much rather have an instrument in his hand than have to make notes on the structure of classical music. Patroclus is more than happy to just write for today, not sure whether he’d want to do any performing in front of Achilles. He doubts he would be anywhere near Achilles’ skill level.

“Ah... Achilles?” he says softly, lifting his head from his work book to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you trying to be my friend? I don’t mind, I just don’t... get it,” he admits.

Achilles tilts his head a little to the side and smiles. “Patroclus,” he says.

_Pa-tro-clus._

“I’m trying to be your friend because you haven’t got any yet. It sucks to be on your own.”

“How would you know?” Achilles has lots of friends, he can’t deny that.

“You’d be surprised how lonely you can feel when there are people all around you,” Achilles says.

He’s never known that feeling, but somehow, Patroclus understands completely what Achilles means.

“Why me?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper now.

Achilles puts his hand over Patroclus’s. “I don’t know yet. All I know is that this is right.”

Patroclus smiles as his eyes meet Achilles’. They both know that what Achilles had just said was the truth. And it makes Pat feel cared for.

 

\--

 

While Achilles is running out on the school field, Patroclus sits on the edge of the grass, cross-legged, with his book on his lap. Every so often he lifts his head to watch Achilles. He’s the fastest of all the boys, his hair the brightest, his legs the longest. He flies past all the others as he runs, beating them every time. The rest look tired, but not Achilles. Patroclus is in awe of him.

The boys finish their races after about fifty five minutes and are sent by the coach back into the changing rooms to shower and change back into their normal clothes. Patroclus puts his book back in his bag and heads towards the changing rooms too, to wait by the door for Achilles. He listens to the boys inside as they shower, laughing and talking in loud voices.

Then there’s a shout. More shouting. There’s obviously some kind of argument going on inside. Patroclus continues to stand by the door, too nervous to go inside and see what’s happening.

Somebody shouts, “Fuck you, Achilles!”

Pat hears a loud thud.

Has somebody just hit Achilles?

He opens the door in panic. Inside, the boys are in a small semi-circle, four of them in the centre of it. One of those is Achilles, being held back by one of the others. He’s got a bruise beginning to form on his left eye. Opposite him, there’s a guy with a bloody nose, also being restrained by a friend.  None of them even acknowledge Patroclus’s appearance.

“You’re a jealous piece of shit, Agamemnon!” Achilles spits, fighting the grip of the boy who holds him back.

“Calm down, Achilles,” he says. Patroclus recognizes him, has heard his name. Odysseus.

He also knows the person that holds back Agamemnon. It’s his brother, Menelaus, who looks as frustrated as Odysseus does.

“Achilles?” Patroclus says. All the boys turn to look at him, including Achilles. His eyes instantly soften when he sees Patroclus, his muscles relaxing.

“Who’s this?” sneers Agamemnon, looking Patroclus up and down with a scowl on his face. “Get out of here, fag.”

Patroclus forces himself not to flinch at the insult. Instead, he stands his ground.

“Come on, Achilles. We should go.”

“Okay. I’m coming, Patroclus,” Achilles says, stopping his struggle against Odysseus and takes a deep, calming breath. “I’ll just grab my things.”

He moves over to one of the benches where gym clothes are scattered around and begins to stuff them into his sports bag. Everybody watches in silence as he packs up and exits along with Patroclus.

“What happened?” Patroclus asks quietly as they make their way towards the school gates. Achilles hangs his head as if in shame.

“He was being a dick because he’s not as fast as me,” Achilles says, his voice filled with hatred.

“And he hit you?”

“Yeah, so I hit him back. He got what he deserved. I should have hit him again after what he said to you.”

“I don’t want you hurting anybody because of me.”

“But he called you a fag, Patroclus!”

Patroclus shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

Achilles expression hardens, his eyes filled with anger. Patroclus worries at first that Achilles is angry with him, but it takes just a minute to realise that his new friend is only furious at the people who have picked on him.

“I’m not letting it happen again,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Achilles-“

“I’m not letting it happen ever again, okay?” Achilles repeats firmly.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t want you hitting people for me but... thank you, Achilles.”

Finally, Achilles smiles.

“You still want to come over to my place?”

“I do, yeah. Could I use your phone when we get there? My foster parents will be worried about where I am.”

 

\--

 

Achilles’ house is everything Patroclus had imagined it would be. It screams wealth, with two expensive cars parked in the huge drive, a large, neat lawn, and marble steps leading up to the big, black front door, that has a lion’s head knocker in the very centre. There are three floors and it even has a turret. A turret! Just like a castle, Patroclus thinks.

Achilles has a key and lets them both inside. Its interior is as grand as Patroclus expects. A huge glass chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, pictures in gold frames are positioned in rows along the walls, and the floor is so polished that Pat can see his reflection in it. It is the very definition of ‘living in the lap of luxury’.

“My dad comes from this long line of dukes and noblemen,” Achilles explains as he kicks off his shoes. “And all the wealth has been passed down to him. He’s actually mayor of the town...”

“Really? That’s so cool!” Patroclus says leaning down to untie his own oxfords and places them neatly side by side near the door. When he looks up again, he sees that Achilles is blushing.

 

\--

 

After a quick phone call to Patroclus’s parents (who scold him for not telling them where he was sooner), Achilles says, “I’ll show you my room.”

They go up the sweeping staircase, walk past several doors, then they have to climb a ladder.

“Your bedroom is in the turret?!” Patroclus says excitedly. Achilles smiles and nods.

Patroclus lets out a little gasp when he reaches the top of the ladder. Achilles has the most incredible room. There are posters covering every wall, mostly of sports stars. Patroclus spots one from the 1996 Olympic Games.

“You went?” he asks, pointing to it.

“Yeah, I went with my dad,” Achilles replies, putting down his bag and then flops down onto his bed. “We went to loads of track events.”

Patroclus goes and sits on the edge of the bed near to him. Achilles’ bed is twice the size of his own and a million times more comfortable. On a cabinet at the end of the bed, Achilles has television and gaming console. Patroclus doesn’t have anything like that. His own room is just a desk, a wardrobe and a single bed. He’s never known anybody with their own television in their room.

“Want to play?” Achilles offers and Patroclus’s eyes light up.

They spend the next hour playing on Achilles’ games, with Achilles showing Patroclus which buttons do what and how the games work. After completing ten levels, they turn it off and lie back on Achilles’ bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“So we’re mates now, yeah?” Achilles says, rolling his head to the side to look at Patroclus.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Pat replies.

He feels Achilles’ hand slide into his own and he stops breathing for a moment.

“Achilles...”

“Is this weird?”

“You barely know me.”

“I know you enough to know I like you,” he replies with certainty.

“But I’ve done stuff... stuff that might make you not like me.”

“I don’t care.”

Achilles squeezes his hand and Patroclus smiles. They sit up and Achilles hangs onto Patroclus’s hand.

He leans in.

Patroclus panics at first and doesn’t know how to react. But the he’s leaning in too. He doesn’t know if this is right or wrong, or whether it’s what he wants or not.

Before their mouths can meet, however, they hear somebody climbing the ladder. They move apart hastily as a man enters the room. He looks just like Achilles, but without his pale skin and blond hair. He’s larger too, not in height, but has a bulkier frame and a plump stomach.

“Achilles, your mother is on the phone. She wants to speak to you,” he says to Achilles, taking a moment to even acknowledge that Patroclus is there. When he does, he looks a bit taken aback.

“Who’s this then?”

“This is Patroclus. He’s new at school,” Achilles tells him, getting to his feet. “Pat, I’ll probably be a long time on the phone...” He looks disappointed and slightly annoyed at her timing. It was as if she knew what they were about to do.

“That’s okay. I should go home for dinner anyway,” Patroclus says, putting on a cheerful voice and expression. “It was nice to meet you, sir,” he smiles at Achilles’ father.

“Nice meeting you too, Patroclus. And call me Peleus,” he replies, offering Patroclus his hand to shake. Patroclus does so. He touches Achilles’ arm for a second, and then descends the ladder.

 

 --

 

As he walks home, he thinks about that near kiss. Is it too soon for them to be doing things like that? He doesn’t know. He’s never done this before. Nobody has ever been interested in him. He can’t understand Achilles.

 

Achilles is a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time setting for this is the year 2000, and at the moment, it's early Spring. And, if you're interested, Achilles has a Sega Dreamcast ✌


	4. Chapter 4

Patroclus is sitting at his usual lunch table the next day, slowly eating tuna sandwiches, waiting for Achilles to appear. He hasn’t talked to him all day. In fact, Achilles has barely made eye contact with him. Patroclus worries that Achilles is feeling embarrassed about the night before, that he’s decided what they were going to do would have been a big mistake. Maybe Achilles doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore.

But he shows up. His head hangs low and he’s lost the usual spring in his step. Even his hair seems slightly duller than usual. He sits opposite Patroclus.

“I have to stay at my mum’s for two weeks,” he says, miserably.

Patroclus doesn’t understand what’s so bad about that, until Achilles speaks again.

“She doesn’t let me go out in the evenings, or have people over at the house. So I can’t see you outside of school for a fortnight...”

He sighs deeply and crosses his arms on the table top, resting his chin there.

Patroclus get why he’s so fed up about it. They can still see each other in school. And it’s only for two weeks.

“It’s okay, Achilles,” Pat says, looking around to see that nobody is watching before he carefully places his hand on Achilles’. Brown fingers curl around lightly tanned ones and Patroclus smiles.

“I’ll still get to see you every day, here in school.”

Achilles looks up at him, his brow furrowed, his eyelids drooping slightly. “I feel I’ve let you down, Patroclus.”

_Pa-tro-clus_.

“You haven’t. Achilles, you really haven’t.”

Patroclus almost laughs at it. Achilles is the only person who has made any effort at all to get to know him. He knows he’ll be forever grateful to him for that, for being his friend.

“But-“Achilles starts, but Pat cuts him off.

“I mean it, Achilles. You’ve not let me down at all. You’re a great friend to me. Thank you.”

Only then does Achilles smile. It’s a shy kind of smile, a bashful one. He blushes and Patroclus almost melts at how cute he looks when he does that.

“So we’re all good?” Achilles asks quietly.

“We’re all good. Better than good,” Patroclus confirms.

Achilles squeezes his hand. “Want to come to the music room with me? The teacher lets me practice in there at lunchtimes, if I want to.”

Patroclus nods with eagerness and stuffs as much of his tuna sandwich into his mouth as he can. Achilles laughs and tells him to slow down.

 

\--

 

Patroclus is cross-legged on the carpet, staring up Achilles who sits on a stool, tuning in his guitar. He’s got his plectrum between his teeth and a look of concentration on his face.

“Okay,” he says at last, giving the tuned strings a strum. “What do you want me to play?”

Suddenly, the name of every song he’s ever heard disappears from Patroclus’s head. He stutters, “Uh- uh... that one... um...” and then sighs and gives in. “I don’t know. Make something up for me?”

Achilles grins. He puts his fingers in place on the strings and plays his first chord.

“Paaa-tro-clus,” he sings, his voice warm and rich, his eyes sparkling. Patroclus hides his head in his hands.

“Paaa-tro-clus, he’s so... small.”

“Hey! I’m five foot nine!” Patroclus protests.

“Like I said...” Achilles says, still singing, strumming along with a new chord. “He’s so small.”

Patroclus rolls his eyes.

“And he’s got brown hair... or is it black? Who even knooooows?”

“It’s dark brown,” Patroclus murmurs.

“It’s dark broooown,” Achilles mimics.

“And his eyes are brown toooo... like chocolate.  
His skin is soft,  
He’s got cute freckles on his nose...”

Patroclus’s cheeks burn and he hides his smile behind his hands.

“And woah-woah-woah, he’s got a cute little butt-“

Patroclus jumps up and gives Achilles a playful smack on the side of his head.

“Stop it!” he giggles, seizing Achilles’ guitar from him. He puts the strap around himself and rests his fingers on the right frets to play a cord.

“Ahhh-kill-eeees,” he begins and Achilles smirks.

“I hate him so much...  
He’s got stupid hair!  
That’s too blond,  
To be naturaaaal...”

Achilles strikes a pose and dramatically runs his hands through his curls.

“And he’s an arrogant dork,  
Who eats figs for his lunch...  
Which is weird,  
Oh, yeah, he’s so weeeeird...”

He’s cut off. Achilles has stood and his lips are against Patroclus’s.

For a moment, nobody moves, nobody breathes. Patroclus’s fingers are still on the strings.

Then, all of a sudden, they’re kissing properly. Achilles’ hand has found its way to Patroclus’s jaw and he kisses him hard, eyes shut, noses bumping against each other. Patroclus has never kissed anybody before, but he finds a natural rhythm with Achilles. He wants to get closer, but the guitar is getting in the way.

“Wait a second,” he whispers, standing back to take of the guitar strap then toss the instrument to the ground with a thud. His arms wrap around Achilles’ neck and they’re kissing with force again, backing themselves up against a wall.

“Patroclus,” Achilles murmurs.

_Pa-tro-clus_

“Achilles,” Patroclus whispers.

_Ah-kill-ees_

Achilles’ hands are on his waist, his lips are against his jaw, his neck, and all the while Patroclus has to stifle his moans and whimpers.

A bell rings and they stop.

“We have to go.”

Patroclus doesn’t want to. But in a minute or two, the music room will be filling up with students waiting to start their lesson.

They move apart and Achilles goes to put the guitar back in its case.

“Can we come in here again tomorrow?” Patroclus asks hopefully.

Achilles beams. “Of course we can.”

Patroclus goes out of the door and makes his way down the corridor, touching his lips with the tip of his index finger.

_Holy shit_ , he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one isn't so long!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic language and violence (aka Agamemnon is a dick again - I think he's just frustrated because he has a really stupid name)

As soon as Patroclus walks through the school gates the next morning, Achilles bounds up to him – he’s actually bouncing with excitement, looking like a human golden retriever with that hair of his – and grabs him by the arm. Before Patroclus even has time to say, “What the hell?” he’s being dragged off around the corner of the building.

“I’ve kidnapped you,” Achilles says, glancing around to see that they’re alone before kissing him sweetly on the mouth. He’s grinning mischievously. Patroclus rolls his eyes at his eagerness.

“You’re weird,” Pat laughs, giving him a little shove in the chest. “We can’t stay here too long... lessons start soon...” He bites his lip and Achilles smirks at him.

“What a nerd,” he says affectionately, pushing him up against the wall and starts to attack his neck with kisses.

“Achilleeeees...” Patroclus complains, but Achilles silences him with another kiss to his lips.

So he lets him kiss him. And it’s good, it’s so good. It is becoming very clear to Patroclus that Achilles, golden, beautiful, fit Achilles, has the world’s biggest crush on him. Him? Why him? He doesn’t think there’s much special about himself. But Achilles seems to see something in him that nobody else does.

They’re interrupted for the second time in two days by the bell. Patroclus tenses up and Achilles stops kissing him.

“I’ve got to get to maths,” Patroclus tells him, reaching up on his tiptoes to kiss Achilles’ cheek. Achilles is ridiculously tall, he thinks.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch.”

Patroclus runs off and Achilles hovers for a moment, not-so-subtly checking out Patroclus’s arse.

 

\--

 

It’s the Friday before Achilles returns to his dad’s house and they’re kissing in the music room again. They’ve done this every lunchtime for the whole two weeks. It happens naturally, nobody says anything to initiate it – it just happens. Patroclus has noticed that’s a reoccurring thing with them. Things just happen.

“Achilles?” Patroclus murmurs as Achilles kisses and nibbles on his ear lobe. “It’s such a nice day... we should go and sit on the grass.”

“We can’t kiss out there though,” Achilles points out. And he’s right. The most popular guy in school making out with the New Boy who’s a Nobody? It would be a scandal. People wouldn’t be able to shut up about it for days, weeks.

“We can talk though. I want to know you more.”

Patroclus says it so sweetly that Achilles simply can’t refuse.

 

\--

 

They lie down on the grass, looking up at the pastel blue sky. Fluffy white clouds are unmoving in the sky; there’s very little breeze, but the temperature is just right, so they’re cool enough anyway.

“We’re looking at the stars right now,” Patroclus says.

“The stars only come out at night,” Achilles counters.

“No, they’re always there. We just can’t see them in the day. But they’re always up there, shining and burning...”

“You’re so smart.”

“Not really.”

“Stop being so modest,” Achilles tells him. “You’re smart, Patroclus. And I don’t say that because I know you’re in all the top classes and read science books all the time... nerd.”

Patroclus hits him on the arm.

“I say it because you think about stuff. Stuff other people don’t think about. ”

“What am I thinking about right now?” Patroclus asks him.

_You._

“The stars?”

_You._

“Nope.”

“The clouds?”

_You. You. You._

“Nope. Should I tell you?”

“Go on.”

_You. I was thinking about you, Achilles._

“I was thinking we should play a game of 20 questions,” Patroclus says aloud.

“Yeah! Good idea. You go first.”

Patroclus nods. “Okay... what is your  birthday?

“October first.”

“Mine’s April twenty seventh.”

“Okay... what’s your favourite colour?”

Patroclus laughs. “You’re so predictable. Uh... green. That yellowish kind. It makes me think of leaves, trees, forests...”

“Nice. Mine’s red, really deep red. Your go.”

They throw questions back and forth at each other for the rest of lunchtime. Patroclus discovers that Achilles has competed in and won seventeen sprinting competitions, owns two goldfish at his mother’s house, once broke his arm by jumping from a tree branch into a river, and has size eleven shoes. Size eleven!

“Question nineteen is mine,” says Patroclus. He ponders for a moment and then asks, “Have you ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend before?”

“Yeah. A couple of years ago when I was fourteen. She was called Deidameia. It wasn’t that serious, I really only went out with her to make me feel less insecure about my attraction to guys.”

“Did you break up?”

“She moved away, said we’d write to each other but we never did. She had my number but she never called. I was actually really relieved.”

Patroclus sits quietly and listens to him speak, wanting to take his hand. But he can’t; there are other boys around, like Agamemnon and his brother who are playing football nearby. They both have hair that burns like a flame in the bright sun.

“You get the last question,” Patroclus tells him, looking away from Agamemnon and Menelaus and instead sets his eyes on Achilles.

“Okay... want to be boyfriends?” Achilles asks it shyly, as if afraid of an answer.

“You’re so cute,” Patroclus replies, lowering his voice, just in case somebody is listening in to their conversation.

“Is that a yeah?”

“’Course it’s a yeah.”

Patroclus wants to hug him. Oh, he wants to hug him so badly. Can he? Would that be-?

And Achilles pulls him on top of him into a hug. He squeezes him so tight that Patroclus feels like Achilles is trying to merge them together into one single entity.

Somebody wolf whistles.

“Never knew you were a fag too, Achilles,” Agamemnon scoffs, abandoning his game to walk over to them. “Getting comfortable with Patty-cake here, are you?”

Achilles growls and jumps up off the grass, flipping Patroclus over so he’s back looking at the sky. At the stars.

“What did you just say?” he shouts, pushing Agamemnon hard in the chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me, huh?”

Menelaus is hovering nearby, looking conflicted about whether he should try and restrain his brother or not.

“You heard me. _Queer_.”  He spits the last word out of his mouth, then _actually_ spits at Achilles’ feet.

Achilles punches him in the cheek and suddenly they’re on the ground wrestling, landing hits on each other whenever they can. Patroclus is up on his feet now, unsure of what to do.

“Achilles,” he cries at last. “Achilles, please stop!”

And Achilles does. He gets up and glares at Agamemnon on the floor. “Just leave us the fuck alone, alright? Come near Patroclus and I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

He’s panting now, bruises blooming on his cheek and arms and likely in other places too. A teacher and other students have arrived at the scene of the fight, trying to establish what happened.

“Achilles, Agamemnon, get inside now,” the teacher commands angrily. “Clean yourselves up and then straight to my office.”

If looks could kill, Achilles and Agamemnon would have murdered each other on the spot. Agamemnon gets up, brushes down his now dirty trousers and stomps away towards the school building. Achilles hangs back.

“I’ll be okay,” he says to Patroclus, who is fussing over his bruises. “Promise.”

Then he kisses him. Patroclus hears a couple of people gasp. He can feel the stares of those around him burning into the back of his head. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t care.

Achilles nods at the watching crowd as if to say, ‘Yes, you really did just see that’, then he walks away. Patroclus is left there feeling breathless, with all eyes on him.

“Wow,” somebody whispers. “ _Achilles_ kissed the new boy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Patroclus? I think? He’s in my maths class. He’s quiet.”

“Why’s Achilles into him?”

“He seems so normal.”

“I didn’t know Achilles was gay.”

While all the muttering is happening, Patroclus picks up his school bag and crosses the grass towards the school. He hears the bell ring for afternoon lessons.

Things have certainly gotten a lot more interesting now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is totally a pointless, fluffy filler chapter ;)

Warm rays of sunshine shimmer down on Achilles’ curls, illuminating them like torch, making him glow. It’s Sunday and they’re on the beach. Achilles knows his mother is away for the weekend, so there’s no chance of her finding them there. Everything is quiet, relaxed, the only other people on the beach being little children paddling in the waves, dog owners throwing tennis balls to their pets, and a few other couples strolling up and down on the sands, hand in hand.

“Truth or dare?” Achilles says suddenly and Patroclus lifts his head from where it’s been resting on Achilles’ hard chest. He had almost dozed off there, feeling oh so warm and relaxed.

“What?” he mumbles, lifting up his head and rubs his eyes.

“I said – truth or dare?”

“Uh... truth?”

“Okay... who’s sexier, me or David Beckham?”

“Becks,” Patroclus grins, earning himself a playful jab in the chest from Achilles.

“I hate you.”

“Hate you, too.”

“Your go.”

“Right, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” Achilles says it with such enthusiasm that Patroclus starts to giggle.

“You’re so predictable,” he sighs affectionately, then looks around to see if there’s anything he could potentially dare Achilles to do. Strip naked and run into the sea? That’d be funny. But Patroclus has a feeling that the elderly couple nearby certainly do _not_ want to see Achilles stripped of his pants. So he rethinks.

“Climb over those rocks there and see what’s on the other side,” he says, pointing a mound of stones that are piled up on top of each other, creating a kind of barrier.

“Really? I thought you’d come up with something better than that! Too easy!” Achilles scoffs.

“Come on then, if it’s so easy, go and do it,” Patroclus smirks, crawling off him to let him stand up.

Achilles walks across the sand, glancing back at Patroclus as he goes. “Easy!” he keeps saying, but doesn’t look so certain one he actually reaches the rocks. He puts a foot on a flat looking rock and finds some higher ones to grip on. He’s being cautious, obviously aware of the possibly of slipping on the seaweed covered wet surfaces.

After a few minutes, he reaches the top and hops down, out of Patroclus’s line of sight.

“Patroclus! Come here!” Achilles calls from the other side of the rocks. He sounds excited.

So Patroclus follows him. He’s an even better of a climber than Achilles; his slim, light body and long fingers are perfect for climbing.

When he gets over to the other side, he sees why Achilles is so excited. There’s sort of cave hollowed out into the small rocky cliff, its walls and ceiling shining with water and the slime of the sea. The whole place seems to shine and glitter, shadows bouncing off the walls, glimmers of sunlight reflecting on the surfaces of stones smoothened by the waves.

“Wow,” Patroclus whispers, going to stand by Achilles’ side. Immediately, his boyfriend has his hand on his hip, pulling him just a little closer. Achilles is protective in that way. A normally casual kind of protection that could turn into outright ‘I’ll fight somebody to death over you’ protection in a second in needed.

“It’s so quiet here,” Achilles says as they listen to the waves lap up against the rocks. In the distance, they hear a dog bark, a seagull screech.

Achilles sighs with contentment and kisses Patroclus’s exposed shoulder. He’s wearing a t-shirt Achilles gifted to him and it’s much too big for him. But Achilles tells him he looks sexy in it. So Patroclus _feels_ sexy when he wears it.

“Did I ever tell you you’re really, really hot?” Achilles murmurs, lightly sucking on Patroclus’s neck. There’s a hickey there already and Patroclus had had to hide it from his foster parents by wearing the ugliest orange turtleneck jumper in the world, which they had given him for his birthday.

“Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice,” says Patroclus, sneaking his hand up Achilles’ tight white t-shirt. He still isn’t quite over the fact that a boy with abs like Achilles’ would want to date somebody like him. _For fuck’s sake_ , Patroclus thinks, _he’s like some kind of god with that body._

“We should come here to get away sometimes,” Achilles suggests, mouthing against Patroclus’s jaw.

“Our own little place.”

“Yeah. A private, quiet space of our own.”

“I’d like that,” Patroclus whispers.

 It’s the last thing he says before Achilles renders him completely speechless with his kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a little chapter today, I've been so busy! Hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

The gossip and chatter around Achilles’ sudden coming out takes a week or two to die down. Some people still give Patroclus strange looks in the corridor, but he’s mostly left alone. Teenagers are never focused on one scandal for long, always finding some other story that interests them more than the last. And Patroclus is relieved.

Because of the fading interest in their sexualities, Patroclus and Achilles become more public about their relationship. They hold hands on the way to school, they sneak kisses in between lessons, they partner up whenever there’s a joint project to do.

Patroclus comes to watch Achilles run on Wednesday evenings and goes to his rugby practices on Mondays, staying out the way of the athletes but always keeping an eye on his Achilles. He sits on a bench, sometimes on the grass when it’s dry, and does his homework while the other boys play their sports. And every so often, Achilles will find a minute or two to come and talk to him, to sit next to him and kiss him. Patroclus often notices the other boys scowl or scoff at them, but nobody dares say anything. They know that Achilles will beat them black and blue if they dare insult him or Patroclus.

It’s one of those Mondays where Achilles plays rugby and Patroclus is chilling out in his usual spot. He’s not doing homework today, instead drawing sketches in his art book. They’re mostly of Achilles, who is in his shorts and his tight fitting top, covered in mud. Something that Patroclus has come to terms with about Achilles is the fact that he’ll be dirty in some way or another nine times out of ten. Achilles is not a boy who likes to be kept in a clean, glass case; he’s a boy who likes to run wild.

The rugby guys take a five minute break and Achilles goes over to Patroclus, smiling at him as if he hasn’t seen him in years. He’s just like a dog returning its ball to his master, happily wagging his tail.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, kissing his cheek and ends up smearing mud on Patroclus’s nose.

“I was until you showed up,” Patroclus answers sarcastically, wiping his face clean with an unused tissue he’s retrieved from his pocket.

“You’re so mean to me,” Achilles grins, placing an index finger beneath Patroclus’s chin and tilts his head up to kiss him.

They kiss and talk for several minutes, until somebody shouts, “Achilles! Come back over here!” It’s Hector. He’s tall, fast and strong like Achilles, but is his opposite in appearance. His hair is black, cut short, his eyes a chocolate brown. While Achilles is lean, Hector is bulky, like a human mountain with slopes of muscle. And, like Achilles, Hector can beat any opponent in a fight, so nobody dares to argue with him. Besides, Patroclus has heard that he’s a very likeable guy, caring and kind, especially towards his girlfriend and his brothers and sisters.

“Coming!” Achilles calls back to him, stealing a final kiss from Patroclus before he runs off onto the field again.

Patroclus sees that their coach has split the boys into two small teams, Achilles captain of one, Hector captain of the other. They start up a friendly match and Patroclus’s eyes follow Achilles as he runs and catches and throws and falls to the ground and slides over the grass on his knees. Patroclus doesn’t know much about the rules of rugby, but he knows enough to work out that Achilles team is winning.

“Time’s up!” the coach shouts and everybody stops, panting as they slap each other on the backs for a good job. “Achilles, well done. Hector as well, you played a good game.  Now, go hit the showers.”

Patroclus goes to wait outside the changing rooms and found a girl already standing there. He knows that she is Andromache, Hector’s girlfriend.

“Patroclus,” she says sweetly. “You’re here for Achilles, aren’t you?”

Patroclus nods and goes to stand next to her. He notes how beautiful she is, her skin the colour of caramel, her teeth as white as pure sugar. Her brown hair falls far past her shoulders, shimmering in the light of the corridor.

“It’s so nice he’s dating you. I think he’s better now that he’s with you.”

“What do you mean?” Patroclus asks her.

“He used to be so... frustrated and angry, I suppose. He doesn’t seem to be like that now. He seems happy.” She gently touches him on the arm. “You make him happy, Patroclus.”

Patroclus smiles shyly, turning his head at the sound of the door opening. It’s Hector and he beams at Andromache, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“You’re Patroclus, yes?” he says, looking at Pat. “Achilles has told me about you. It is nice to meet his sweetheart properly.”

Hector offers his hand and Patroclus shakes it.

“And you’ve met my beloved Andromache, I see,” he adds, smiling at her as if she were the sun and moon and all the stars rolled into one.

Achilles comes out the door, much cleaner than he was about fifteen minutes ago. “Ah, you’re talking to Hec and Andy,” he grins, putting his arm around Patroclus’s shoulders.

They exchange a few more pleasantries and then Hector and Andromache walk away hand in hand.

“Hector’s a good guy,” Achilles says as they walk to his house. “But he’s my sporting rival. It was between me and him for the captain of the team this year and I think I was lucky to get it.”

 

 --

 

Peleus is away for the weekend so Achilles invites Patroclus to spend the night on Friday. They order Chinese food and sit cuddled up on the sofa, watching some terrible romantic comedy.

“This is shit,” Patroclus laughs, but Achilles shushes him.

“We’re going to miss the part where he does the really cliché declaration of love,” he says.

Patroclus rolls his eyes and kisses Achilles’ neck. His boyfriend lets out a little, ‘oh’, at the sudden contact, which makes Patroclus smirk.

“Like that?”

“Uh-huh.”

Patroclus kisses him some more and Achilles squirms.

“Oh, yeah...”

“Feel good?”

“Really good.”

Patroclus gets up in to his lap, sitting face to face with him. Achilles’ eyes are dark with lust and his bottom lip is wet from where he’s dragged his tongue over it.

Patroclus goes back to the neck kisses, sucking hard to leave a small bruise. Achilles is his and he will mark his man.

“Say my name, Achilles,” he murmurs.

“Patroclus.”

_Pa-tro-clus._

“Again...”

“Patroclus...”

_Pa_

_Tro_

“Achilles?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Can we... uh...?”

“Okay.”

Achilles gets up, bringing Patroclus with him. He’s got him gathered up in his arms, carrying him like a husband carries a bride over the threshold.

“Achilles!” Patroclus giggles, trying to wriggle out of his arms.

“I’ve got you,” Achilles replies, keeping him firmly in his grasp as they ascend the stairs. He has to put him down to get up the ladder and once they’re in Achilles’ bedroom, they pressed flush against each other, lips on lips, holding on as if gravity is pulling them together.

They fall down onto the bed and Achilles starts to slowly undo the buttons on Patroclus’s shirt. They’re both breathing heavily by now, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. Patroclus’s shirt falls away from his shoulders and Achilles stares at his bare chest in awe.

“Patroclus...” he breathes.

“I love you,” Patroclus whispers, eyes brimming with tears of joy. He’s never felt so loved.

“I love you too.”

 

\--

 

They wake the next morning naked and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Achilles is spooned around Patroclus and nuzzles into his neck, leaving a few little kisses there.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice deep and rough from sleep.

“Good morning,” Patroclus mutters back, only half awake. He’s warm and he’s comfortable and he never wants to get out of the bed. Never.

“Best night of my life...” Achilles says, brushing his fingers through Patroclus’s hair.

“Best night of your life...so far.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a wuss who doesn't like writing smut, sorry!


	8. Chapter 8

Summer arrives, bringing with it glorious sunshine, sweltering heat and violent thunderstorms. Achilles loves these. Patroclus doesn’t. He’ll hide beneath his boyfriend’s bedcovers, ears held over his ears. When he was without Patroclus, Achilles would stand by his window when a storm hit, watching the torrent of rain fall from the sky, gasping at every distant rumble and flash of light. But, he couldn’t do that when he saw Patroclus so afraid. He would wrap his arms around him and whisper in his ear to comfort him, not moving until the storm had reached its end.

Such a storm was raging now as they tried to study in Achilles’ room for their final exams. Patroclus is even more on edge than usual, knowing that he needs to do well on his biology exam, and the weather chaos outside isn’t helping him in the slightest.

A clap of thunder shudders through the air and Patroclus whimpers a little.

“Don’t worry,” Achilles tells him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re safe here with me.”

Normally when Achilles says something like this, Patroclus will smile and return the token of affection. But this time he stays silent and still.

“Babe? You okay?”

Patroclus shakes his head and bursts into tears.

“Patroclus? Pat, what’s wrong?” Achilles asks worriedly, wondering if he’s said anything that would have upset Patroclus.

“I have to tell you; it’s killing me, Achilles,” Patroclus sobs, trying desperately to stop his crying. He hiccups and sniffs and wipes the tears from his face, which are only replaced by fresh ones a moment later.

“Tell me what?”

“I... I did something bad.”

“When?” Achilles doesn’t know what Patroclus is talking about. He’s never broken the rules, doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

“Years ago. I k-k... killed somebody.”

Patroclus hides his head against Achilles shoulder and starts to sob again.

 

\--

 

“I was seven,” he begins, finally calm and ready to tell Achilles his story. “He was eight and lived a few houses away from me. We’d play together sometimes. He had a football and we used to kick it around in the street. There weren’t many other kids my age where I lived with my parents, so it was good to have him around.

“One day, we were playing my new Snakes and Ladders game in the garden, on the patio. And we were about halfway up the board and I was about to take my turn, but he said he got an extra turn because he was older. I said no and he tried to take the dice from my hands. He wouldn’t stop so I pushed him. It wasn’t supposed to be hard... I just wanted him to move away from me. But he fell backwards... and hit his head on the concrete.

“I ran to find my father and he phoned the ambulance. But the way he’d hit his head... he didn’t survive. My father shouted at me. My mum and I were both crying, because we didn’t really know what was happening.”

Patroclus goes quiet for a moment, staring at the blank space on Achilles’ wall. He sighs and continues.

“There was an investigation. It was ruled manslaughter, an accident, but through the investigation they found out about my father’s beatings. My mother wasn’t fit to look after me on her own because of her mental state so I... I went into foster care. I wasn’t allowed to stay in homes where there were other kids and I needed therapy sessions for years. Everybody kept telling me that it wasn’t my fault, but I can never stop feeling guilty about it...”

Achilles doesn’t say anything at all while Patroclus tells his story. He just listens, hand clasped around Pat’s.

“I think I’m a bad person, Achilles...”

Achilles lifts his hand to Patroclus’s cheek. “Patroclus,” he says firmly. “You are not a bad person. You’re kind, you’re loving, you’re gentle. You are not a bad person. You aren’t. Not at all.”

“But-“

“No, listen to me. You’re not bad. What happened was an accident, you had no intent to really hurt him.”

“But I did hurt him.”

“Patroclus, I love you so much and I don’t want you thinking you’re bad or evil or anything like that because of an accident that happened so long again. Please, for me, keep looking forward and don’t focus on the past, yeah? You’ve got a future. With me... if you want.”

“Of course I want you in my future,” Patroclus sniffs, finally smiling a little.

“And I want you in mine. So don’t keep worrying about it. This doesn’t make me think less of you in anyway.”

“Promise you won’t tell anybody though?”

“Promise. Cross my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one again, so sorry! But I felt I needed to do Patroclus's backstory and it really needed a little chapter just for itself.


	9. Chapter 9

School is finished, exams over, and Achilles and Patroclus are free to spend the summer break together, kissing in their private cove at the beach, cuddling in Achilles’ room, holding hands across the table as they sip at milkshakes, able to spend almost every single day with each other.

Achilles is nearly always topless now, showing off his perfectly flat, golden stomach to the world. Patroclus is never as bold, often feeling self-conscious about his body. When he tells Achilles this, his boyfriend sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re the most beautiful guy in the world,” he says as he tucks a strand or two of Patroclus’s hair behind his ear. He says it with such conviction that Patroclus even starts to believe him.

T-shirt free Achilles runs across the beach with Patroclus keeping up just behind him. They’re laughing giddily, calling to each other, teasing. Patroclus catches him and tackles him to the ground. Achilles lets him pin him against the sand, turned on by Patroclus’s confidence. They’ve just started kissing when they hear a cry. The cry of a terrified girl.

Both boys jump to their feet and look around for the source of the shout. They see a group of guys further up the beach, cornering somebody against the wall of the cliff.

“Hey!” Achilles yells at them, racing over with Patroclus on his heels.

It’s Agamemnon, his flame red hair unmistakable. He’s got a girl held up against the rock by the wrists, leering down at her while his friends cheer him on. Patroclus doesn’t recognize the girl, but that doesn’t matter. He can’t stand by to watch her get hurt.

“Make them leave her alone,” he whispers to Achilles. His boyfriend never refuses his requests.

“Agamemnon, get away from her and fuck off,” he snarls, grasping Agamemnon’s arm and gives it a fierce pull. The girl takes it as her opportunity to run. Patroclus quickly follows her down the beach.

“Don’t be scared!” he calls to her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay!”

He catches up to her and puts his hand on her wrist. She snatches her hand away and whirls around, arms up, ready to shield her face. Only then does Patroclus noticed she’s wearing a hearing aid.

Luckily, he knows a little bit of sign language. ‘Hello,’ he signs. Then he points to himself and spells out, ‘P-a-t-r-o-c-l-u-s.’

She looks uneasy.

Patroclus tries again and adds the sign for ‘friend’ at the end.

The girl smiles and points to herself this time.

‘B-r-i-s-e-i-s,’ she spells out.

Patroclus shakes her hand and gestures for them to sit down on the sand. Briseis carefully arranges the skirts of her sundress over her crossed legs, settling her hands in her lap. Her brown eyes – ones just like Patroclus’s own – shine in the light, her lids halfway down like shields against the bright sunshine. Idly, she traces a finger through the sand, drawing swirling patterns.

“Did they hurt y you?” Patroclus says, remembering after he’s said it that she can’t really hear him. But she’s smiling at him. She shakes her head and signs something. Patroclus doesn’t know what she’s saying, not knowing enough about sign language to understand. Briseis points at herself, then mimes reading, then touches Patroclus’s lips with the tip of her finger.

“Oh. You can read my lips?” he asks and she nods.

He’s about to ask another question when Achilles comes rushing up to them. He’s got a bruised cheek and specks of blood on his t-shirt. Briseis shies away from him.

“A-c-h-i-l-l-e-s,” Patroclus tells her, pointing at his boyfriend. She still looks scared. Why wouldn’t she be? Achilles is large, tall, intimidating.

So Patroclus takes Achilles’ hand. Briseis frowns. Patroclus tugs Achilles down onto the sand and kisses him. Briseis’ eyes widen, finally understanding. She taps her chin twice with two fingers and points to Achilles. Patroclus doesn’t recognize the action, but Briseis is quick to use another, holding her hands over her heart.

“Yes, that’s right. Achilles is my boyfriend,” he says, kissing Achilles’ cheek. Achilles blushes.

Briseis giggles. She signs ‘he is very handsome.’ Patroclus nods in agreement, leaving Achilles looking bewildered.

“Want come and get a milkshake with us?” Pat offers her and she smiles sweetly.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates the last few days. I've been ill, on holiday and feeling very lazy and unmotivated, haha. Anyway, little chapter here, I just really wanted to introduce Briseis! Sorry about the sudden ending as well... I'm not good at chapter endings.


	10. Chapter 10

“Boys, if you’re done gazing at each other like that, do you think you could help me clean up?” Chiron says, standing over their table, arms folded over his chest. Patroclus looks around and sees that they’re the only ones left in the cafe.

“Sure,” he says with a smile, letting go of Achilles’ hand and starts to move around the room collecting up glasses and mugs and plates. Achilles watches him, admiring him and his arse with a smirk. That is until Chiron hits him around the head with a damp tea towel, which springs him into action.

They spend the next half an hour helping Chiron sweeping, washing up, getting the cafe back to order. As Chiron locks up for the night, he looks at Achilles and Patroclus who are about to walk off, hand in hand.

“Boys, how would you like helping me do this again? Paid, of course. I could do with some help around here.”

“Seriously?” Achilles asks.

“Yes, seriously. And it’ll be good for you both to say you’ve had work experience. Are you up for it?”

Patroclus and Achilles look at each other for a moment and then back at Chiron.

“That’d be really great. Thank you, Mr Chiron.”

“You’re welcome. Now, get yourselves home and try not to get into any trouble.”

He chuckles at his own words and starts his walk home, whistling as he goes. Achilles and Patroclus start heading home too... well... maybe they don’t go home straight away. Maybe there’s an impromptu make out session on the moonlit beach first...

 

They spend most of their remaining summer in the cafe. Chiron teaches them how to make those famous milkshakes of his, how to do some cooking, and helps them improve their social skills. The first time Patroclus waits a table, he’s stammering and blushing and fumbling with his notepad. But by the time the last day of the holiday comes around, he’s laughing and chatting with the customers like they’re old friends.

Briseis comes in often and Patroclus will talk to her when he’s not serving other customers or making coffees and milkshakes. She’s helped him improve his sign language while he’s been giving her English tutoring. Achilles doesn’t talk to her much, feeling a pang of jealousy every time Pat’s attention is diverted away from him by her. He decides that it’s stupid to feel that way; he has to let Patroclus have friends beside himself. Even so, he can’t help feeling a slight resentment towards Briseis.

On that last day of summer, Chiron lets Achilles and Patroclus finish work early and gives them a small bonus each so they can go and enjoy themselves.

“We don’t need money to enjoy ourselves,” Achilles says, wiggling his eyebrows at Pat which leads to Achilles getting a playful smack from his boyfriend.

“Go out for a proper date. The fair is in town! Enjoy yourselves! You’re only young once!”

Patroclus’s eyes light up at the thought of the fair and he gives Achilles’ hand a little tug.

“Let’s do that!” he says and, oh, Achilles cannot resist him when he’s like this, so excited about something.

“Fair it is, my love.” Achilles kisses Patroclus’s hand with a flourish and they start to run towards the bus stop.

 

The fair is a small one, a few rides, a few stalls, but Patroclus decides it is one of the most wonderful places he’s ever been. He holds Achilles’ hand as they walk across the grass, pointing out the different rides that he wants to go on, and the giant teddy bears that are prizes for some of the games. Achilles is determined to win one for Patroclus and after spending a good portion of his money; he finally wins a cheap little teddy holding a heart. He gives it to Pat, apologizing that he couldn’t get him a big one.

“Don’t be silly,” Pat says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s wonderful. I love you, Achilles.”

And when Pat turns away, Achilles blushes bright red with pride.

The sun starts to go down and, as it sets, Patroclus convinces Achilles to come on one last ride. They share a horse on the carousel, Pat in the front, holding onto the golden, twisty pole, Achilles just behind him, his hands on Patroclus’s waist. They go round and round and up and down, all while the jolly music plays and the children around them squeal with delight as they pretend to ride their colourful carnival horses. Achilles presses a soft kiss to Patroclus’s neck and whispers, “I love you.”

It’s dark when they get back into Achilles’ house. Achilles is holding the stick that had held their pastel pink candyfloss and Pat has his teddy, squeezing it tight. They climb up to Achilles’ room and collapse into bed, giggling like school girls, their brains hyperactive from all the sugar they’ve consumed in the last few hours.

“You were so scared when we went on that ride that went upside-down,” Patroclus teases, giving Achilles a little poke in the stomach. Achilles opens his mouth to defend himself, but Patroclus stops him with a kiss. The kiss ends and Achilles tries again, only to be kissed again. And again. And again.

“Stop it,” he says, feigning outrage.

“Nope.” Another kiss.

“You can’t just kiss me every time I try to--“ Kiss.

 “Yes I can.”

“But am I just allowed to—“ Kiss.

“Nope.”

Patroclus has a wicked grin on and his fingers are creeping beneath Achilles’ t-shirt.

“You’re in a playful mood.”

“Fairground rides have that effect on me.”

“Patroclus...”

Pat pulls Achilles’ shirt off in one swift motion.

“Achilles...”

“We have the first day of school tomorrow...”

“Achilles...” Patroclus’s voice is warm and husky, his hair ruffled and falling into his eyes. Achilles has never been more in love.

“Okay.”

Kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for my absence! Things have been crazy. But I hope you enjoyed this little chapter! It's helped me get back into the swing of writing this story.
> 
> p.s comments and kudos keep my writing motor running :)


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